


Twenty Days

by Lena42



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action/Adventure, Comedy, Domestic Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 23:17:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8867272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lena42/pseuds/Lena42
Summary: Each chapter is a day between Evelyn Reseigh, John Watson, and Sherlock Holmes. A curator seeks a detective to find the The Concert by Vermeer and 12 other paintings stolen in the largest theft in history. Of course there is only one consulting detective in the world for the job.





	1. Chapter 1

####  **Day One. - 15th July, 2015  
**

**  
**

Sherlock heard the roar of an engine slow to a hum from the street below. Voices drifted through the propped window, open to air out the flat from the previous day’s experiment. Sulfur is an element to be reckoned with.  


One thought brought him from supine position on the sofa to sitting.  


_Client. Female._  


A tentative push of the doorbell, the cautious opening of the front door, Mrs. Hudson’s fussing.  


_Personal blood pressure rise from 115/80 mmHg to 130/80 mmHg. Prehypertension evident.  
_

The Victorian steps to the landing of Sherlock’s and John’s shared flat creaked.  


_Steps are uneven, disjointed, Hudson is at the peak effectiveness of her herbal soothers. Second pair of steps are light, evenly distributed, and hesitant. Client is 167 cm, size 5 shoe, a dancer and unsure of her decision to be here, common.  
_

A slight rap against the door frame. The door is always open, too much effort to close it. Everyone seems to let themselves in regardless.  


“Sherlock,” Mrs. Hudson’s voice was cheerful as always. “…you have a client! How wonderful, I know you throw such dreadful fits. This will help keep your mind occupied.” Sherlock rolled his eyes. _I am not a child. I am thirty-four. Thirty-four, six months, and fifteen days, thank you very much._  


He turned his gaze to the woman uncomfortably standing to his landlady. Mid-length brunette hair, brown eyes, lashes thick and full, clear fair complexion, slight sheen of sweat evident, mesomorph body type, around 30 years old. _Common physical characteristics, high temperature across London due to summer coupled with general anxiety of new clients responsible for sweat. Despite sweat no makeup displacement, natural of face._ Surprise at the revelation of a natural face. _Confident with what she has and practical, interesting._  


Sherlock moved on to apparel. White shirt half tucked into waistband, light washed denim jeans and low heeled oxford boots, simple silver watch across right wrist, and flat silver ring on second finger of left hand, satchel leather and unisex. _Extremely practical._ Sherlocks eyes twinkled. _Wrinkles back of shirt and at knees, long cab ride, dust at heel from Charing Cross Station or Embankment Station…too similar need more data. Newly arrived to London from Heathrow Airport. Left hand dominant, hates her father, very little family, although well-off. Wristwatch of high quality, traditional oxford boots, jeans of affluent brand, shirt tailored, silver ring polished frequently, satchel is leather and well-used._  


Sherlock raised a single eyebrow as she cleared her throat to speak.

“Hello my name is Evelyn Reseigh. I am here to ask for your assistance Mr. Holmes.”


	2. introduction

**Day One. – 21 st July 2015**

 

Evelyn Rose Reseigh was a sensible girl. She should find a more reliable source to provide aide to her quandary, instead of using the first link to appear on Google. Yet, here she is in a cab to the center of London. 221B Baker Street to be precise.

_The Science of Deduction_. _Analysis of Tobacco Ash? This must be fake. What a narcissist to declare himself the World’s Only Consulting Detective._

The cab engine slowed to a hum, then to a stop. Evelyn placed several notes in the cabbie’s outstretched hand. Evelyn let her eyes survey the front of the cab. _Cabbie nails unkempt, shirt ill-fitted and well worn. Picture taped to the dash of the cab. Two children, raising alone, mother ran out with a lover._ Evelyn added another note to the wad. _Not much, but enough for ice-cream in the park for the tykes._ The cabbie grinned at the notes clutched in his hand. “Would you like me to return in fifteen minutes, Miss?” with a nod towards the doorway. “This is a common drop-off, they always come out in ten minutes’; pale, dead silent. Should save myself the trouble, yeah?”

_That’s a comforting statement. At least they come out alive._

“Thank you, no. I’m sure it won’t be necessary.” Evelyn gave a tentative review of the doorbell of 221 Baker street. “At least I hope so.”

The cab engine roared to life once more as it left her on the threshold. _Better now than never. Doorbell or knocker, why does this door have both?_ Evelyn gave a timid tap to the ivory button along the right of the doorframe. Despite the noise of central London behind her, a closing door could be heard, and the slight shuffle of footsteps. The door opened slowly.

Evelyn quickly cleared her throat. “Hello, my name is Evely—”

“Oh! Hello dearie, are you here to see Sherlock? John never brings women around.” The elderly woman appeared in full view, flashing Evelyn a kind smile, “Come on then! You’re a client! You couldn’t have come at a better time love. Sherlock was about to throw a fit.” Evelyn regarded the woman, her late grandmother came to mind immediately, “My name is Mrs. Hudson. I’m the landlady.”

“Evelyn Reseigh, new to London. I have a situation which may require Mr. Holmes assistance.” Evelyn took Mrs. Hudson’s lead in climbing the steps in to the building. Evelyn made note of the landlady’s uneven steps and the slight stumble at the base of the stairs. _Old age perhaps?_ Evelyn caught the scent of something _her_ grandmother never used. _I shouldn’t be surprised that this is an unconventional household._

“Don’t worry about that dear! Sherlock will do plenty to help. He’s such a kind boy.” Mrs. Hudson gave a slight rap against the wide-open door of a flat, the pungent smell of eggs drafted down the stairwell. Evelyn wrinkled her nose.

“Sherlock,” Mrs. Hudson’s voice gave way to a cheerful tilt. “You have a client. How wonderful! I know you throw such dreadful t--” Evelyn’s mouth upturned slightly at the pause. “Fits.” ‘Tantrum’ lingered at the end of the landlady’s tongue. Quickly Hudson continued, “This will help keep your mind occupied.” Evelyn peered around Mrs. Hudson’s shoulders and placed herself uncomfortably at her side.

The man in front of her was tall despite his languid pose on the sofa, his ebony hair in a reckless halo of curls on top his head. Evelyn shifted in her place as the eyes of this man roamed across her body, it was not the feel of appraisal which she was accustomed. It was an inspection, she felt as if she were an open book. His eyes were striking, the color of ice and the stormed sea.

“Hello, my name is Evelyn Reseigh. I am here to ask for your assistance Mr. Holmes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter will be a day, there will be 20 consecutive days. Began writing this story because I read another fanfic that made me want to write a story of my own.
> 
> Please leave your thoughts on my work, I appreciate the oversight.


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